


My Phoenix

by AnonymouxSonic



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed Rouge
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe, Gist Is An Asshole, M/M, Takes Place After the Events of Rogue, Timeline is Fucked, male x male pairing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-05-08 20:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14702136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymouxSonic/pseuds/AnonymouxSonic
Summary: After his supposed death at the hands of the people he thought of as his family, Shay Cormac is left in a state of desperation, a world in his hands, and the fate of hundreds of innocents over his shoulders. A mess he is, until he is taken under the guidance of the Templar Grand Master. Haytham Kenway plans to take the former Assassin, and turn him into a fire that will blaze the world, completely untamed by none other than himself. Shay is ever eager to take flight. They could take on the war itself and end on top, and nothing could stop them. Shaytham."I'm gonna change you, like a remix, then I'll raise you, like a phoenix."Inspired by the song by Fallout Boy.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song, "The Phoenix" by Fallout Boy. This story is a Shay x Haytham, or otherly known as Shaytham. I've been playing Rogue a lot recently, and gods I forgot how much I love Haytham Kenway. I don't know what it is, but he kills me. After listening to this song, I received the inspiration to write a story, an AU of sorts on the game. With that said, events and such will happen at different times than in the game, and some in a different order. The ending of the game is entirely different, and takes a major role in how the story plays out.
> 
> Last time I wrote a story based on a song, it became my first and most successful story on the internet. Writing this brings a nice sense of nostalgia to myself. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> -Anonymoux

**Prologue –**

He ran, his ears ringing with the explosions of dynamite, the screams of Assassins left and right, the  _Morrigan,_ his beloved ship, shooting her mortars at him as he bolted across the island, Achilles's yells echoing across the snowy fields, somehow making their ways to his ears, through all the noise around him. A tree bursts into flames and splinters as a cannon ball smashes into it, sounding like thunder as it crashes to the ground. He barely slides under in time, and then he's running again, ducking under the swipe of a blade from an Assassin running towards him. He keeps going, pushing forward, a bullet whizzing by and nailing him in the shoulder. He curses and takes a sharp left, nearly being crushed under the avalanche of snow falling down to block his path. He hears Hope calling his name as he makes a right, over another fallen tree, across a smoking crater, and up a hill leading to a cliff.

_Shite._

The cliff led right over a large pile of rocks, the distance he would have to go to make it safely in the water too risky. He would hit the rocks no matter how hard he pushed himself. The sound of quickly approaching footsteps behind him as he skidded to a halt, had him grimace and close his eyes in pain.

"That's enough!"

_Liam…_

Shay reaches up, grabbing his hood as he slowly turns to face him, face the Assassins, the ones he thought he could trust, the ones he called his family. Liam, his friend, his brother from childhood, looked enraged with him. Liam was never angry with him. Liam wasn't…

"Give back the Manuscript, Shay!" Hope exclaims, beautiful Hope, and Shay's heart is torn. "I'm sure Achilles-"

…but anger wins over his heart, and Shay stomps his foot into the snow, like a child refusing to give up the candy he stole. "I cannot," his voice is choked. "I will not let this happen again. All those souls lost… One more hardly matters."

…and it was all he had left to do.

They would kill him.

He might as well die with a cause.

" _SHAY!"_

He turns on his heels, ready to fall to his death.

The loud bang of a gun scares the birds from the trees, the bullet pushing him before he could even make the leap himself.

* * *

_New York City, New York  
August, 1758_

It was always so bloody cold in the northern colonies.

Despite it being the last, dying heart of summer, it was chilly, the rain from overnight leaving a dreadful fog behind that left sailors mistakenly ramming into icebergs. The clouds moved fast, no doubt ready to dump snow on the spreading population whenever it had its chance. He could see his breath as he walked, the little white puffs blending in to the grey of the streets, crowded by dozens of New Yorkers up early, ready to get on with their day, to only collapse in a tavern later. One person in particular he was on his way to see, his second sight seeing through the civilians around him, spotting the speck of yellow a few blocks down.

His focus is distracted too long, startled back to him when a child rams into him, the boy sputtering apologies as he backs up and takes a good look at the man he collided upon. Instead of scolding him like most of the folks do, the man smiles and tosses him a gold coin instead. "Just be more careful, mate," he says, sidestepping the awestruck lad and continuing his way down the brick road.

He puts his hands into the pockets in the sides of his coat, blowing out another puff of hot air. With the temperature dropping as quickly as it was these days, he was half expecting to see penguins joining these people waddling their way down the streets. A sight it would be! he thinks with a smirk. Gist had a personal dislike for the water birds. It would be amusing to watch him run from a flock of them; a tale that would be passed from generation to generation.

His thoughts are cut short when an odd noise whispers in his ears, and that's exactly what it is: whispers. His brows furrow as he slows his walk down to a cautions pace, using his Eagle Vision to scan the area. He was closer to the man he was supposed to meet, but the closer he got the more whispers he heard.

He saw her.

An Assassin on the roof of a building right above his companion, ready to jump down at the right chance.

Shay takes off, right towards the side of the building, throwing and arm up to catch a support beam and throw himself up over the edge of the roof, his right hidden blade extended and as he slams into her, knocking the wind out of her with a startled cry. The two go over the edge of the building, slamming into the street below with a sickening crack of her back, the Irishman pulling his hidden blade from her throat with a distasteful scoff. A few people nearby let out surprised screams and took off running for help. She gargles a final breath of blood before going completely still, and silent.

"Well that was quite fortunate," he hears behind him as he whips his blade around in the air to get the blood off, turning to meet the grey-blue eyes of the man that said it, "for you to arrive when you did."

"Master Kenway," Shay greets, taking a good look at the Grand Master while his blade slides back into its sheathe. The man was dressed immaculate as always, still wearing that ridiculous triangular-shaped hat the former Assassin both hated and bemused at the same time. He can hear one of Gist's stupid jokes about that hat in the back of his head, and for good measure he tells it to shut up. With a witty grin, he holds out his hand to his side. "I'd shake your hand sir, but it's a bit of a mess right now." Good thing he didn't wear gloves, he thought to himself. Blood was such a stain.

Kenway's lips turn up slightly on one side, the usual smirk for the stoic Templar, something that people claim to be rare. Weeks once told him that he's never seen the Grand Master show as much emotion as he does around Shay.  _"You're not secretly hitting him with those darts of yours, are you?"_

"We've all had a little blood on our hands in our times, Master Cormac," Haytham motions for him to follow, turning down a nearby alley. The sound of soldiers running to the scene of murder were getting closer.

Shay walks alongside him, smirking slightly. "Really? I can hardly see you wanting to ruin your precious, rich clothes with even a drop of rainwater."

The man chooses to ignore him, like he usually does at his brash jokes. "I hope you've properly equipped your ship with the needed upgrades, Master Cormac. We'll be sailing into heavy, enemy territory."

"Where to?" the ex-Assassin questions. It always threw him through a loop when Kenway went along on their missions. Most Grand Masters would sit inside their cozy little (figuratively speaking) mansions, sipping tea with their pinkies out. Even Achilles, Mentor of the Assassins, spent most of his time on the Homestead. It was honorable to see a leader of his army out on the battlefield with them,  _leading_.

Then, there was the feeling of pride and accomplishment whenever they succeeded in their missions. The pat on the back, the smile from the Templar leader, the praise he would receive for a job well done. The Assassins never gave him that, that satisfaction of doing good. Whenever he did something for  _them,_ it was never good enough. Apparently, he was all the Templars needed. Their, what the Assassins have been calling him lately, attack-dog.

Kenway's attack-dog.

Having the Grand Master at his side, heading into battle, gave him a strength he wasn't familiar with.

"Île des Pins," Haythem answers. "We've found Adéwalé."

The way he says the Assassin's name, one would assume he despises him more than he does Achilles. Shay bites the inside of his cheek, a bad habit he's started recently, not sure what to think of it. He didn't want to kill Adéwalé. He was a good man, but corrupted by his mentor just as the rest of the Assassins.

"May I ask, sir," Shay starts hesitantly, "what the man has done to deserve your spite?"

Kenway is quiet first, his brows furrowing just slightly and his mouth pulling into a thin line. For a second Shay regrets asking, wondering if he should even be asking any questions at all, but then Haytham answers, his voice a bit lighter.

"He worked with my father," he says, and Shay can't contain his surprise, his brows flying up, eyes widening slightly. Kenway continues. "As you may have heard, Master Cormac, my father was an Assassin. Adéwalé and he may have not agreed on most terms, but they were friends, nonetheless."

Shay puts the pieces together in his head. He doesn't need to hear it to know where this was leading. Adéwalé must be disappointed in Haythem for becoming a Templar; Grand Master, to be exact.

The two are quiet as they make their way towards the pier, an uncomfortable tension in the air. Not necessarily between them, but with what they were about to do. Deciding to break the ice, Shay stares off at the  _Morrigan,_ proud of how she was looking. "I've always admired Captain Kenway," he admits. "I could listen to stories of him for hours upon end. My father would talk about him like the legend he was."

Haytham's walking slows, and he turns to look at Shay. The man was always hard to read, but the younger of the two could see slight surprise in the man's eyes. He smiles and continues, turning to look back at his ship. "I particularly enjoyed the stories of his life on sea. The life of a pirate is a good one. Full of dangers an' many risks, but thrilling and worth the pay. Gets you the attention of the pretty, young lasses at taverns, too."

He's not sure if he should keep talking, but he does anyway, because that's what he's always done. Liam would tell him that mouth of his will either get him killed or make him the luckiest man on the continent. Shay had always laughed.  _"I make my own luck."_

…but it seems his mouth was doing the right thing, this time, as Kenway's lips pull up at the sides in a small, but noticeable smirk. "Yes…my father certainly had quite the reputation in taverns all across the seas. He settled down only when he went back to London, but even then he would slip at times."

Shay smiles now, glad to have eased the tension. "Any man would, with the girls up there. You also can't deny a good drink every now an' then."

The Grand Master turns and continues his quick pace to the  _Morrigan,_ his tone stern once more _._ "We may require one or two when we take back the French fort."

Shay raises a brow again, but this time its in mirth. "Are you offering to buy us drinks, Master?"

Kenway still has that small smirk on his face, despite trying to act serious. "Possibly. That all depends on how well you do today. I want Adéwalé's head." His tone darkens considerably, the Templar leader in him surfacing. Shay nods, understanding.

"I won't disappoint you, sir."

He would stake his life on it.

No matter how much he was going to ache killing an Assassin he once looked up to, the old man also telling him of Captain Kenway's stories, sitting around a fire under the night sky, like a grandfather figure, taking care of him the few days he had pneumonia, being one of the people that came to his defense when Achilles was too harsh…

For the safety of the world…

For the Order…

Even to give Haythem Kenway some peace…

It needed to be done.

* * *

" _You dare beg forgiveness, child? Hell welcomes traitors like you."_

_Shay swallowed the painful lump in his throat. Kenway stood behind him, slowly stepping up to overhear._

" _Then I go there proudly," he answers, his voice thick with emotions he forced to become anger, "knowing I have done right."_

_Adéwalé scoffs, choking on his final breaths. "It does not matter…. Achilles already has what he needs."_

_A sudden jolt of terror at the fact that the Assassins were ever closer to destroying the world… Shay glares down at the man he once used to look up to. "I will kill every last man who defends him, if I must. I cannot let him succeed."_

_Before he can pull away, the dying Assassin reaches up, grabbing his arm, as if trying to reach out to him._

" _You… have become… a monster, Shay."_

_Shay's eyes widen, the words hitting a nerve in his chest, one that struck his heart. He wrestles off the man's arm, staring at him with wide, confused eyes as he watches him die._

_Has he?_

_Is he a monster?_

_To kill some to save the rest… Did that make him just as bad as they?_

_No…_

_All those people in Lisbon…_

_Achilles would pay for their deaths._

" _Perhaps I have," he whispers. He feels a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Kenway giving him a look of both sympathy and approval._

" _Come."_

… _and he does. He follows the Templar, unable to look back at the mess he caused._

_Kenway never takes his hand off of his shoulder._

* * *

Gist is grinning like the idiot he is. Weeks stands there with his hands crossed behind his back, an approving smirk on his face. Johnson is stoic but has a proud stature to his stance.

Shay feels nervous when he knows he should be proud of himself.

He feels somber even though he should be happy.

Kenway must know, must see it in his eyes, as he puts the golden ring on his fingers.

"You have earned the title of Master Templar."

He says it in a tone that speaks volumes.  _He's_ proud of Shay, and that thought in itself is enough to ease some of the pain, and yet he understands that the now  _Master_ Templar is suffering from a trauma that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to give us a moment," Kenway asks, and the three men nod.

Shay gives the Grand Master a confused look, as he turns around and grabs somethings off of a shelf nearby.

"I believe I promised you drinks, Master Cormac."

The boy tries to smile, he does, but he feels heavy.

" _You've become a monster."_

He can't get the words out of his head.

"Sit," Kenway says softly, but the order is there under the surface. Shay does as he's told and gratefully accepts the glass, the Templar leader sitting in a chair adjacent to him at the small, polished round table.

"You are heavily troubled, and so I'm going to tell you something that may help," he says, and Shay sips at his drink with surprise most likely written all over his face. Kenway watches him for a moment, not for the first time noticing that the Irishman had a hard time keeping his emotions from his facial expressions.

"I've only ever shared this story with one other person," he continues, thinking of a once beloved one he had held closely to his heart, "but I feel it will aid you greatly."

"You're concern is appreciated, Master Kenway," Shay has to admit, and the man gives him one of those small smiles.

"What you're going through now, Master Cormac, is very similar to what I myself had to go through not too long ago. Do you know how I came to be in the Order?"

Shay's eyes widen for the third time that day. Kenway had the unique ability of startling him quite frequently. He frowns. "I don't believe so, sir."

Of course he hasn't, but it was just a way to start conversation. Kenway has a distant look in his eyes as he tells him his story. "I was born and raised in London by my father, Edward Kenway. He raised me with hopes of me becoming an Assassin, and the next Mentor of the British Brotherhood, however, he never told me about the Assassins, nor the Templars. Just trained me to become one."

Shay takes in this information slowly, letting the Grand Master take his time.

"When I was a child of ten years old, five men stormed my house and killed my father before my very eyes," he starts, his voice even and seemingly unfazed. Shay wondered if anything could faze the Templar. "They took my sister and sent her away, and burned the house down to the ground. I was found by the man Reginald Birch, and he brought and raised me into the Templar Order. At the time, I didn't even know what the Assassins were, or that my father was one.

"So many years later, I find out where my sister was. I went to her rescue and together we escaped. Then…she tells me the five men that ambushed our home and killed our father, were Birch's men."

Shay gets where this is going. He puts his glass down on the table, it now empty, and gives the Grand Master a respected look. "I take it you killed him…"

Kenway has no emotion when he says "Yes."

Cormac looks across the table and out the window on the other side of the room, his mind absorbing this information like a sponge in water. Haytham sighs and puts his own cup down on the table.

"What the point of my story, Shay, is not that everything ends in revenge. I'm merely telling you this because I want you to understand that you're not alone."

These words bring the captain's attention back to the Templar. Kenway continues, his eyes locked on Shay's.

"Sometimes those we believe we can trust the most, turn out to be the ones we should never have trusted at all. What Achilles and O'Brien did to you is what Birch did to myself. I understand what you are feeling and the ghosts that are haunting you." He stands up, and walks over to where Shay sat, offering his hand. The Irishman blinks a minute, before reaching up and taking it, allowing the man to pull him to his feet. "What I offer is reincarnation. I see a potential in you none of my men can compare to."

Shay, still holding onto the man's hand, frowns, but feels an opportunity about to offer itself to him. "What exactly is your plan, then, if I may ask?"

Haytham's fingers holding his hand feel around the newly made Templar ring, most likely subconsciously. "Your abilities are flawless, but I can make you better. What I plan is training, Master Cormac. We work together to retrieve the box from the Assassins, but I want to make you into more than just a Master Templar. Monro believed you would be the best of us. I intend to see to that myself."

Shay is hot and he doesn't understand why. The Assassins…never believed he would be anything more than a pirate fit for delivering their cargo. An extra hand to spare in their war. That's why they sent him to Lisbon alone, instead of with Liam. They didn't care if something happened to him. They only used him to test their own theories.

Now, here he was, holding the hand of the Templar Grand Master Haytham  _bloody_   _Kenway,_ being made an offer to become something more than a captain, an errand boy; to become what he says the  _best_ , what he claims he can be and  _so much more._

Kenway watches him patiently, but…hopefully? It's hard to read the man. Shay isn't sure what to think.

"I…" he begins slowly, finding it hard to speak through the lump in his throat. "I would like  _nothing_  more, sir." To be something. To be some _one._ Trained by the hands of a Kenway.

For the first time since he's known him, instead of the usual twitch of the lips, Haytham smiles.

"Then let us enjoy this victory. Tonight, we celebrate. Tomorrow..."

Shay nods, swallowing.

"Tomorrow,  _it_  begins."


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One – Here Comes the Rising Tide**

_The Far North_  
March, 1760  


" _I found Hope's body, Shay."_

_The Templar curses as he jumps from the crashing ice, dodging quickly to the left as a chunk of the glacier above exploded into the temple ground, due to yet another earthquake. At least there weren't any innocent people to die this time, is all he can think._

" _Did you kill her?"_

_He swallows the grief in his throat as he ducks behind a pillar, just barely avoiding the gunshot. He takes off again, the ground beneath him ready to give way, threatening to throw him into the cold, frozen sea below, this time for good. He jumps from the temple path to a snowy cliff, his emotions breaking through as he yells back, "I'm sorry!"_

_He is, too. Sorry he had to do it. Sorry he has to do it again._

_Liam takes one last shot at him, gets him in the ribs on the right, so close yet so far from his heart, and Shay unsheathes his hidden blade to lunge at his former best friend. Former brother. Former everything. The quake shakes the cliff beneath them apart, and just as he strikes the Assassin with the silver of his weapon, taking a stab himself to he stomach, the two are falling…_

_They land on their backs, close to each other. Shay's head is spinning, the back of it throbbing dangerously. His vision is white, but that could also be from the snow, and he forces himself to lift himself up, just as Liam lets out a hoarse chuckle and says: "That…was lucky."_

_Liam is dying. Blood is pooling from under him, both from Shay's blade and the impact of the fall. The thick crimson liquid is smeared over his face, and as they meet eyes the younger of the two feels that grief again, gripping his heart with cold, icy fingers. He crawls over, reaching for the damn thing that started it all: the Manuscript, putting it into his jacket as he sits beside his dying friend._

" _How many times do I have to tell you…" he murmurs, gripping his side in pain. "I make, my own luck…"_

" _I just don't understand…why'd you do it…" Liam reaches for him, and Shay grabs his hand, and he sees it: Liam is suffering from grief, too. More so betrayal._

" _To save the world," he replies, knowing deep down it was true, no matter how hard it was to accept._

_Liam chuckles, one last time, before leaning his head back, and closing his eyes._

" _Then I hope it's a good one…"_

_Shay grits his teeth, not sure if he should feel angry or upset, but he knows he can't stay here, knows he needs to find Master Kenway and Achilles before they killed each other, and so he pulls Liam's hood up, takes one last sad look at him, before turning and limping his way up the snowy hill. His vision is on the edge of darkness, but he can hear the clanging and cursing of the two men below him, and as he reaches the hilltop he sees them, sees Kenway trip and fall on his back, sees Achilles raise his sword to…_

_Haytham curses as he reaches for his sword on his side, holding it up just in time to block the attack that would have killed him, but Achilles stomps his stomach with a firm boot. Coughing up something that tasted of copper, he struggles to pull himself up to his side. The Mentor of the Assassins looks down at him with distaste._

" _Requiescat in pace," he says, and Kenway curses, as the man lifts his sword to strike…_

… _but he never makes contact._

_Shay's sword plunges through the back of the Assassin, causing him to gasp and choke on blood in his mouth, before he falls to his side, and Shay stumbles forward, before falling to the other side onto the snow, his blood staining it red._

_Achilles coughs as he watches through hazy vision, as Haytham jumps up, to Shay's side, grabbing the boy and turning him over, pulling him up into his lap, shaking him, trying to wake him. The Grand Master turns and yells something behind him, before looking down at Shay again, for the first time showing fear in his eyes. Fear that he would lose Shay. Shay himself is unresponsive, blood dripping quickly from two large wounds in his torso. Soon Christopher Gist and a few other crew members of the_ Morrigan  _have joined his side, and are lifting their captain up to take him to the ship._

_Kenway gets up, pulling his gun from his belt. He stands over and looks down at Achilles, glaring at him with the fury of the devil._

" _If he dies, I will hunt for you in hell," he says in the darkest voice the Assassin has ever heard from a man, before Kenway aims his gun at him, at his head, and pulls the trigger with a loud bang._

* * *

_Seven Months Later…_  
New York City, New York  
October, 1760  
Fort Arsenal  


Gist knows that if he laughs, he's dead. His poor captain looks just disastrous, with blood smearing from his scrapes and bruises across his battered body, his hair tie loose and so the brown wispy strands are hanging in front of his muddy face. His clothes have tears and parts of their fabrics completely missing from his outfit, a particularly large gash on the back of his jacket. His sword, oh his sad, sad sword, broken in half, the blade of it nearly gone.

He knows that if he laughs he's dead…

…but he does it anyway.

Shay gives him the glare of all glares; one that could kill a man just by setting on him. Gist, was apparently no other man, and only continues to bellow in hysterical laughter. Weeks, who stood a bit annoyed and looking just as bad as the Master Templar, gave the first mate a sour look, obviously not pleased. One of the frames in his glasses is missing. He too, looks hilariously ridiculous.

"You could find yerself anything better to do, and yet here you are, choking on your own spit," Shay chides him, throwing the now useless sword to the ground with a loud clang. This noise only stops Gist for a moment, as he wipes a dramatic tear from his left eye.

"I apologize, Captain, but you do know how  _marvelous_ you're happening to look these days? Tell me, is this the new style of the era?"

The ship sailor is not amused, at least in the little bit, storming over to throw a paper in the man's face. "Just shut yer trap and read this."

Gist takes the paper, reading through the bloody fingerprints and ink smears, no doubt from Shay himself. "From Master Kenway?"

"He needs us to haul arse to Albany," Shay turns to remove his holster and belt, throwing them haphazardly on the floor. His jacket is off next. "I need you to go prepare the ship and crew. I'll be out in just a moment." He starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Gist, stilling leaning back in his chair, his legs propped up and crossed on the small table with checkers in front of him, turns his head to one side as he studies his friend with a frown. "It's only asking for you, though."

Shay slows what he's doing but doesn't stop, turning his head halfway back to give the man a questioning look. "Oh? And you expect me to fly there, do you?"

Taking the hint, the first mate grins and jumps up from his seat, waving the paper around in the air as he heads to the door. "Alright, alright. I'll go make myself useful."

"It's about time," Weeks called back as the door shut behind him.

"Go get yourself cleaned up and rested," Shay orders as he throws the raggedy shirt to the ground, cursing slightly as the pain in his back grows. Just another day, just another fort taken over. "You've certainly earned the break."

Weeks only smiles, turning to head to the door himself. "I'm more than happy to oblige, Master Cormac. Any time away from Gist is a vacation."

Shay grins. "Mines about over, then."

Weeks leaves him to himself as he leans over the table with the large map in the center, grabbing the first aid kit left there. They never bother to put it away anymore. It was too much of a hassle having to get it out every time they entered the fort. Pulling out a cloth and a wad of bandages, he cleans up his right arm, just above the hidden blade where the skin was unguarded, writing a mental note to himself to get thicker clothing. Something with more protection, and not just from sharp blades. Soon it would be winter, and the weather was relentless in the northern colonies. Kenway once told him it's much more livable in the south. Warmer, fresher. Better ale. Prettier girls.

The last two things on that list were the most important.

So far in the past few months, Kenway has sent him across the northern waters to reclaim forts and strongholds held by the Assassins and French forces. Every time he sends him out, he gives him a special challenge each and every time. One was, don't kill anyone except the leader. Another was, don't let any person of the British troops die. They were challenging, but it was to push his skills, and a part of him enjoyed the dares. It helped him discover a few new abilities and made him think in ways he hasn't ever before. Every single time he came back, either Weeks or Gist at his side, the men claiming Shay had completed the challenge with perfect ease, Kenway would tell him how proud he was. That he was proving his worth.

It gave him something to look forward to.

None of the injuries, none of the aggravations, were too much for him, because at the end of the day when he stood before the Grand Master with details of his victory, the praise he received was all worth it. Knowing what he would be rewarded with in the end, not just the money or the resources, the forts and the support of the King's troops, but the eulogizing he earned from Kenway gave him the adrenaline, the rush he needed when he started his missions. He felt needed. He felt important. He felt as if he mattered.

For the first time since his father passed, if felt as if he meant something to someone.

He rushes in bandaging himself up, finding another decent outfit to throw on, new weapons and polished hidden blades. He knows he needs stiches in multiple places, especially his back, but he's never been one to let his injuries falter him from what he needs to do. A proud Cormac tradition, his father used to tell him.  _"You won't know you're hurt until you see and think that you're hurt. If you don't pay attention, you won't know, therefore, it won't bother you."_

Sometimes that logic got him rushed to a doctor, nearly dead, but he's always been able to pull through. Just because of his father.

He takes a quick glance over of himself in a nearby mirror, fixing his hair back into its tie, before finally being satisfied with himself. The blood on his back is going to seep through his clothes soon enough, but this was an older outfit anyway. He could live without it.

Making his way outside, he sprints down the pier and jumps across the gap of the dock and his ship, landing with a light thud. The crew members are cheering as he steps around Gist and takes the wheel, taking in a deep breath for the comment he knows the man his about to say.

"You look much better, Captain."

"What would I ever do without your knowledgeable input, Gist?"

The man grins and looks out over the horizon, the sun casting a magnificent red glow across the water's surface. "Surely, you would have sunk the  _Morrigan_ long ago."

Shay rolls his eyes, his voice dry but tinted with humor as he spoke.

"I'm sure."

* * *

When Kenway sees Shay he actually looks startled and concerned. Of course, he was used to the Master Templar getting himself into more trouble than need be, but today he just looks as if he were knocking on death's door. There's blood already staining his fresh outfit, obviously from gashes that needed to be properly treated. He double-thinks his decision to call the man here, but, Shay greets him with a cocky grin and an aura of such excitement he immediantly dismisses it. If the boy blacks out, it'll be after he succeeds in his mission.

"Master Cormac," he greets the boy as he steps up to meet him. "I take it you were successful in your task?"

Shay nods, unable to display the proper mannerisms a decent Templar should have. They would work on it, Kenway tells himself. The process of converting the boy into something new was going to take some time, and he always prided himself on being a patient man.

"Aye, sir. Port La Joye is cleared out, and the British are already setting up there."

"Good," Haytham motions for Shay to follow him, feeling a bit of pride that his most trusted Templar was proving all he was worth. Ever so loyal, Shay was, and eager to please. "I have something for you, a very  _delicate_ task."

As they walk through a small crowd of people, Shay quickens his pace to match the Grand Master's. "How so?"

"The list of names you gave me, Chevalier's contacts," he starts, turning another corner, "we have found one of the men on that list."

Shay's eyes widen, before narrowing, a firm nod showing he understood. "Where at?"

"He is here, at a private meeting inside the fort. François-Gaston de Lévis," Kenway explains. "He is preparing a voyage to Europe. If you want to get any information out of him, now is the time."

Shay turns his attention to the fort just up on the large hill. "I'll get to it, then."

Haytham takes another look at Shay, as the Templar walks just a bit ahead of him. There's a sizable blood stain growing on his back… "Make it quick," he orders, not wanting the Irishman to collapse inside the fort, or get killed for that matter.

The rogue nods once, before taking off towards the fort.

Kenway watches him go, wondering if they should pull the  _Morrigan_ around in case Shay had to make a hasty retreat…

* * *

"There you are…" Shay murmurs as he creeps along the wooden post which was part of the rebuilding structure for the fort walls. De Lévis was glowing in yellow in his second sight, as he entered the room he would be meeting his escort in, the captain of a ship called,  _Hebe._ He needed to get into that room…

The ex-Assassin looks around him, down at the snipers at their posts in the watch towers overlooking the yard below. French, because the leftover Assassins took to this place kindly. Every time the British had it in their grasp, they would be raided and wiped out only moments later. He could as well kill two birds with one stone, take over the fort and get the information out of de Lévis.

Taking his rifle from his back, he pulls a berserk dart from his belt and loads up the weapon, aiming it at the closest sniper. With a shot dead on the neck, the man in blue was soon screaming obscenities and shooting his gun at his former friends. With the sound of gunfire, most of the fort was alerted, and once enough of them gathered up, Shay through a berserk grenade, sat back, and watched magic happen.

One of the guards hit another in the head with a nearby two-by-two, knocking him out, blood splaying everywhere. That same guard was murdered as another guard flung his sword through his back and out his stomach. Then that guard is killed by a sniper shot to the head, the sniper's poison running out and him choking to death on his own air, falling over the handrail and onto another guard below, who just had his head cut off by another guard. Shay whistles and turns around, over to the rocky wall and running along the edge of it, over to where more of the French, and it seemed a few Assassins, were running up to join in on the fray. Another grenade is thrown, and it doesn't take long for the center of the field to become a major blood bath.

Just as Shay lands in a pile of leaves conveniently on the ground just a few feet from the entrance to the meeting room, the doors swing open and two French soldiers run out, followed by de Lévis and the captain, a Frenchman, whose mouths dropped open at the sight before them.

Everyone was dead.

"What the… What in the world happened here?!" de Lévis questions, turning to look at the now very frightened captain in pure and utter confusion. Shay takes that moment to leap down from the building above, his hidden blades finding the backs of both the soldiers' heads. The captain and de Lévis stumble backwards as Shay stands and turns around quickly.

"Do something you fool!" the latter yells, just as the captain is unsheathing his sword. He doesn't have a chance to do much, before a dart makes itself home in his right shoulder.

"Sweet dreams," Shay taunts, before turning his attention to the military leader in front of him.

"You… You're the…!" de Lévis yells out, as Shay backs him into the room behind him. His back hits a pillar, and the Master Templar takes the opportunity to run up to him, grabbing him by the collar with his left hand, his hidden blade on his right extending to poke at the man's throat.

"The Precursor Box," Shay growls. "Where is it?"

The Frenchman's eyes are wide in fright. "I don't have it!" he exclaims. "He wanted me to take it, but I refused to get involved! For this  _very_ reason!"

"Then  _who_  did he give it to?" Shay counters. "Tell me and I may spare your life."

The man's mouth drops open, before he looks away, snapping it shut. "I… I don't know  _for sure;_ he only mentioned someone named Vardon."

" _Olivier_ Vardon?" Shay questions, and the man nods.

"Y-Yes, I believe so."

An Assassin.

"Where might I find him?" he pushes, and the man swallows.

"I wouldn't know…b-but I do know he has family, a brother I think, i-in Vieille Carriere…"

Good enough…

Just looking at the man in front of him, he could tell he really wanted nothing to do with the Assassins nor Templars. He, on the other hand, was a French leader…

…but just  _looking_  at him, Shay felt the man was just as innocent as any.

He lets him go, taking a step back for safe measure. "I'll take your word for it."

Kenway would have killed the man.

"Get out of here, quickly. The captain should be waking up soon, and the moment he does, I want you gone."

De Lévis nods quickly and shakily, and Shay turns to head back to the Grand Master.

"Hey!"

"Shite…" the Templar breathes, as he steps out to meet a group of French soldiers, their guns raised, aimed at him. There had to be a least twenty of them, with he himself on center stage.

Slowly reaching for his belt on his side, he holds his left hand up, smirking as he grabs a smoke bomb from the pouch. "Evenin' gentlemen," he greets slowly. "Beautiful weather we're havin'… Did you know, red skies at night mean sailors' delight?"

They yell something in French, and Shay takes that good second to throw his smoke bomb down, turning to run for escape as they begin firing madly. A bullet grazes his shoulder as he climbs the scaffolding of the fort wall, another bullet just missing his leg as he hurls himself over the edge. The smoke was clearing fast, and he was running quickly out of time.

Maybe he should have patched himself up just a  _tad_  better before coming out here…

He runs to the edge and looks down at the water below, not too cold yet for this time of year, and he makes the silent pray that he lands in the water and not on the rocks next to it.

He jumps, his arm out at his sides, the wind whistling in his ears, his coat flailing in the wind like a flag atop a ship, and he makes the dive with a splash of the colder-than-he-had-been-expecting water.

He surfaces with a loud gasp, water dripping down his face and slightly blurring his vision, as he tries to make sense of direction from where he was compared to the shore. So much for securing the fort, he thinks dryly as he decides to head around the fort towards the more open waters, so he could at least see where his ship was.

Fortunately, his ship was right there.

One of his crew members calls out when they seem him, and Gist and Kenway run to the edge of the ship to lean down, helping Shay climb aboard once the Templar gets there.

"That was good timing," Shay pants, before leaning forward on his knees to catch his breath.

"You're lucky I had them bring the ship around," Kenway frowns, noticing a new wound on the other's shoulder.

"How many times do I have to say," Shay stands straight up, smirking. "I make my own luck."

"You're also back to looking terrible, Captain," Gist grins.

"I'm about to make you look even worse," Shay threatens, causing the first mate to turn around with a bellow of laughter.

Haytham grabs Shay's attention as he steps in front of him, raising a brow. "What did you uncover?"

Shay starts walking towards his cabin, the Grand Master right at his heel, frowning. "De Lévis didn't have the box, but said Chevalier had met with Olivier Vardon, an Assassin, not too long after he talked with him."

As they enter the cabin and Kenway closes the doors, he watches Shay step up to the table in the center of the room with his naval charts spread out over it. "Do you have a location as to where he would be?"

"He said he didn't know his exact location, but he has family in Vieille Carriere, up north."

"Next to Fort Blanc? It's heavily fortified by the French. Sailing passed there would start up a fight, Shay." Haytham leans on the desk, watching the boy look over the large map spread over it.

"We could always go the long ways around," he points a trail out on the map with his index finger. "Up through the west, although I am about to get the  _Morrigan's_ hull finished up, so in about a week we could take the fort ourselves."

A week…

Looking at the Templar again, Kenway frowns. If Shay wasn't as injured as he was now, he would say to go up the west path now, so they didn't give their enemies time to move, but sailing all that way, and then having to sail back to New York to upgrade the ship, and then sail all the way back up there, without having Shay at  _least_  see a doctor…

No, Shay needed medical attention immediantly. They would wait the week out while the  _Morrigan_ was being worked on before they headed up there, which would give the Templar plenty of time to recover. Then they could take the fort  _and_ find out where Vardon was at the same time.

"We head back to New York," Kenway finally says, causing Shay to look up at him, startled.

"You…want to wait it out?"

"You need to see a doctor, Master Cormac," the Grand Master states matter-of-factly. "It would also save time in the end to make only one necessary trip up north and take the fort when your ship is ready."

Shay's brows furrow, a deep frown settling on his face. "As…much as I appreciate the concern, boss, I could still go now and-"

"That's an order, Shay," Haytham's voice lowers considerably. "You're no good to me or the Order if you die because of being stupidly careless in your health. To New York. Now."

There's no arguing with him, Shay realizes, and with a frown he nods and pulls away from the table. "Alright, then."

He sounds disappointed, and he walks around the table to head to the door.

Then with a sudden groan, he collapses.

Kenway closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, pinching the skin between his eyes.

At least, like he thought before, Shay waited to black out until  _after_  his mission.

Now he just had to get the idiot in bed.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If he dies, it's because of you."

**Chapter Two – Silver Clouds with Grey Lining**

_Present Day_

"What…What's going on?" the woman leans back in her chair, staring blankly as the data flew across her computer screen. "Another glitch?"

"Violet," she turns to the scarred man entering her office, shutting the glass door behind him. "What's happening?"

She shakes her head and gestures to the screen. "You've got me there… The numbskull seems to have opened up another glitch in the system. It's like they're going back in time, in the memories or something."

"What do you mean, back in time?" Berg questions, sounding impatient.

Another series of images started playing across the screen, these ones showing Shay stop Achilles from killing Haytham, and Haytham killing Achilles.

"Whoa!" Violet exclaims, almost bolting out of her chair.

"That's now how history goes!" Berg takes a step back. "If Achilles died, then how is Connor…?!"

"There's something crazy going on here!" the woman starts typing madly, trying to sort out the images. "These memories shouldn't even exist, because they never happened!"

"Find out what exactly is going on, and what's causing this to happen!" Berg exclaims. "Make sure the Initiate isn't killed, either!"

He storms out of the office, nearly crashing into one of the employees rushing to meet him.

"S-Sir, we have a problem," the man exclaims, handing him a tablet. Berg looks down at it, recognizing Haytham Kenway's file, and watching in pure shock as the data starts erasing itself.

"Get me Connor Kenway's file, now!" the Templar exclaims, causing the associate to flinch and run off. People are now running about frantically, and as Berg looks down at the screen, his eyes narrow sharply.

Something must have happened with Shay for this to happen.

"Berg!" he hears Violet call, and he turns around as she runs up to him with papers. "Here, it looks like Shay may have found another Piece of Eden, one that's causing this…alternate reality glitch to happen."

"Time change, maybe?" Berg looks over the data, as she nods and continues.

"It looks like it. Pieces of Eden are known to do crazy things. If Shay felt traumatizing guilt for what happened, he could have found one that controls time, and tried to go back and stop something from happening."

"We need to see this happen," Berg nearly growls.

She frowns in return. "All memories after he assassinated Charles Dorian are fragmented or completely blanked out. We have  _no_  way of accessing them."

"Then see where these new memories lead to. Maybe they will coincide with one another. I also want someone to look into both Haytham and Connor Kenway's memories."

Violet nods.

"I'll see what we can find."

* * *

_New York City, New York_  
Kenway Manor  
October, 1760

Haytham Kenway was a dignified man, one that held himself high and proud, a natural leader that always knew what he was doing, the best things to do and how to do them, didn't take questions and ordered his men about efficiently, thoroughly, and never feared nor doubted himself. There was not one man that could make him feel any form of guilt or regret, shame or embarrassment.

Well…anyone except Dr. Adam Andrews.

The man was now Shay's personal doctor, after the Master Templar threatened to cut off Benjamin Church's head for reasons he wouldn't explain. Shay was…picky about doctors to begin with, and after reluctantly meeting Andrews at Haytham's orders, he finally caved and decided to give the man a chance.

Now, the Grand Master was wondering if that had been a good idea to begin with… Dr. Andrews was very protective of all his patients, and knowing exactly what Shay's line of work was, and the dangers associated with it, he was more so protective of him than all. It was that protectiveness that glared dangerously at him as he finished patching up the Master Templar, connecting the final bandage -the one that wrapped around Shay's torso from his right shoulder under his left- with tape and putting his supplies away.

"In bed for at least three days, Master Cormac," he says as he bundles up his supply case, turning to once again glare at Kenway. "And no assignments or any vigorous activity for two weeks."

"Two?" Shay exclaims, the doctor ignoring him.

Kenway frowns, his hands clenching each other from behind his back. "We have somewhere to be by the end of the week."

Andrews scowls at him. "That won't be acceptable. He's still recovering from his wounds back in  _March,_ and these new ones take  _time_  to heal, as  _all_   _major_  wounds do."

The Grand Master's frown deepens as he glances at the Templar of discussion, who sat on the bed of the guest room frowning back at him.

It was true, Shay took some heavy hits from his fight with Liam O'Brien, dangerous ones at that. The fact that he was even alive was by miracle. O'Brian's sword had gone straight through the Templar's stomach, with a hidden blade wound deep within his left ribs, just narrowly missing his heart. The bullet wound on the right side had been deep as well, all three inflictions leaving Shay in bed for nearly a month. Once he had been allowed to get on his feet, he was slow and clumsy, and needed quite a bit of training to get himself almost back into shape.

Shay had nearly died, and would have if not for Church and Andrews.

It had been way too close of a call.

Kenway had kept Shay in his manor during the event, because no one felt safe putting him in anyone else's (mostly Gist's) hands, and so he could make for certain that the Irishman recovered properly. Once Shay was able, he immediantly began taking off aboard the  _Morrigan_ to continue his missions and search for the Precursor Box. He took his orders directly from Kenway, reporting back to him each and every time, only to be sent away on another task.

Shay now looks at him, frowning as well. They both knew two weeks wasn't going to happen, when Vardon was out there, most likely with the box.

"I'll make sure he rests," Haytham says slowly, looking back at the doctor, who in turn rolled his eyes and deepened his glare.

"If he dies, I want to hear no complaining, because you'll be the one to kill him," the older man huffs, pushing passed the Grand Master and storming down the hallway to leave the manor.

Kenway blinks with widened eyes as he watches the man leave, while Shay shrugs it off and reaches for the glass of water on the nightstand next to the large bed. "A bit overdramatic?"

"Somewhat…" Haytham answers, turning to look back at his best Templar. Shay downs the water in one gulp and puts the cup back on the stand, before turning to reach for the white buttoned shirt beside him on the bed. He lifts it up to put it on, but visibly flinches after attempting to get his left arm through the sleeve.

With a sigh, Kenway steps over, grabbing the shirt and holding it out for him, and Shay smirks and puts his arms through the sleeves. "Thank you."

"I wouldn't have to help you if you took greater precautions during your missions," he was scolded lightly, causing him to simply smile as he got to work buttoning up the shirt.

"You don't seem to mind takin' care of me though," the Templar argues jokingly, only fixing up half of the buttons, and leaving the top half loose. Kenway glares at him.

"I've already told you numerous times, Master Cormac. You're invaluable to the Order."

The boy only shrugs and leans back against the pillows and headrest, grabbing one of the books from the pile on the nightstand. "I think you just like havin' me around."

The enigma that was Shay Patrick Cormac, Kenway thinks bitterly. Sometimes he was as unbearable as Gist.

"I expect you to at least stay the three days in bed," he says, dodging around the Irishman's teasing. "The moment your ship is ready, we depart."

"Aye, Master," Shay practically mumbles, already into reading his book.

The Grand Master takes one last look at him, before grabbing the door and closing it as he stepped out into the hallway.

" _If he dies, it'll be because of you."_

It wasn't like he hasn't lost men before, he argues to himself as he makes his way down the hallway. They knew what they were getting involved in when they agreed to be inducted into the Templar Order. They knew the risks, took the vow to support the cause, no matter  _what_  the cost.

" _I think you just like havin' me around."_

He opens the door to his office and closes it behind him, taking off his hat and throwing it on the desk in the center of the room. He rubs his face with both of his hands, letting out a tired sigh.

_The moment the rogue's body hit the ground, he was scrambling to his feet. He reaches for him, grabs him and turns him around in his arms, pulls him onto his lap, grabs the side of his face, the one with the scar, shaking him, telling him to wake up. Shay doesn't even make a sound, his eyes are fallen shut, his lips blue from the cold, blood oozing from the wounds dotting his torso in a triangle._

" _Wake up, dammit!" he had yelled, shaking him by the shoulders this time. When he didn't indeed wake up, he felt his heart grow cold, nearly stopping in his chest. He turns and looks behind him to the_ Morrigan;  _"GIST!"_

_He looks back down at Shay, feels emotions he can't understand. Panic. Fear. Shay is completely unresponsive, his breath taking longer and longer to pass his lips each time he exhales. Snow is whirling all around them, and he tries one last time to wake the boy, before Gist is pushing him aside along with two others, lifting their captain on a makeshift stretcher, rushing him down to the ship. He sits there, watching them go, before turning his attention to the Assassin lying on the ground, bleeding out, anger filling his chest like a dark tide, threatening to overturn everything in its path…_

Shaking the memories from his head, he walks behind his desk and sits in the chair, staring down at the pile of letters that had grown over the past week.

So much has happened…

_Too_  much has happened.

He grabs the first letter on top of the pile, flipping it over in his hands. He knew right away who it was from, recognizing the handwriting as if it were second nature to him. He tears it open and pulls it out, leaning back as his eyes dart across the paper.

' _Haytham,_

_I have been going through father's belongings, and there are a few things here I wish to send to you, including maps and charts that may be beneficial to you. There is also something here I think you would be honored to have, so by the time you probably read this letter, it should be only a few weeks away from you._

_I hope you are doing well. We may not have gotten along as children, but you are still my brother, my family, and I care for you. I have thought over your decision to stay as Templar, and I have concluded that it may be for the best. This way, I know they are not the villains father fought to protect us from._

_Take care,_

_Jennifer'_

He turns the paper over in his hands, absentmindedly playing with it as he thinks over her words. He hoped whatever it was she was sending was in good hands. He didn't want to lose any more of their father's belongings.

The fact that she was also supporting his decision to stay as Templar eased his mind some. She had been on and off about it, at first upset with him, then ignoring it, and now she claimed to be okay with it.

He reaches for the drawer on his left and pulls out his journal, tucking the letter in there as a reminder to write to her later. Possibly when he received the package. He flips through the pages, contemplating on writing in it, but then changes his mind and puts it back.

He hasn't written a single thing about Shay.

He isn't sure why, but every time he goes to, his mind draws a blank. He's written nearly everything that's happened in his life in that journal, from his father's death to Birch's, and yet when it comes to Shay he feels as if some unknown force is preventing him from forming the words to write.

Everything about Shay was a dilemma.

The déjà vu he had gotten when he shot Achilles in the head was strong and startling. It wasn't a feeling he had ever experienced before, but at that time he felt as if something…different had happened than what should have happened. It was as if time was altered, changed, and his life was on a different path than the one it should have gone down.

He takes in a deep breath and figures he was over thinking it.

Maybe tomorrow he would finally write about Shay.

* * *

The Templar frowns as he takes a turn right down the hallway, trying to remember which way it was to the gardens. If Andrews and Kenway thought he was staying in bed for three days straight, they were just as deluded as Assassins. He walks passed a doorway, stopping as something catches his eye, then takes a few steps backwards to the doorway once again, seeing the exit he was looking for. With a smile, he dances around a mahogany table and two couches in the center of the room, opening the glass doors to take in the fresh air as he steps outside. He doesn't even bother to close the doors behind him as he jumps over the white railing on the porch, down to the soft grass below to the path cutting through it like a snake.

He still wore his baggy breeches and loose white shirt, but he had his hidden blades on each arm, because you never know when an Assassin would come running out of a haystack or from a roof above. He didn't hear any whispers, but one could never be too careful.

Maybe he  _should_ have closed the back door…but there were plenty of guards around, so he supposed it would be fine.

He hoped.

He would just listen extra carefully, he told himself. He didn't think any Assassins were stupid enough to try and sneak in, especially without a mentor to guide them, but then again, there were those ones that thought it would be a good idea to try and get at him from directly behind. They didn't last long, but the stupidity was real and out there.

Walking up to the large tree in the center of the garden, he winces as he jogs and climbs up, trying to ignore the pain in his back as he lifted himself onto the lowest branch. He climbs his way to the top and lets out a sigh, sitting with his legs dangling on the sturdiest branch up there.

This…was where he sat a lot.

When he was stuck here for a month after the event up north, this was where he escaped to each and every time. The Kenway Manor was just a little bit north of New York, sitting on a hill that gave him a pretty good view of the town and waters beyond. He could see his ship from here, and just that in itself gave him a sense of comfort. He could see lanterns from his men on the boat, most likely drinking and singing shanties…

New York would always be home to him, but the  _Morrigan_ and sea was where he belonged.

He couldn't wait to get back out there…

"Master Cormac, I thought you were told to  _rest_ ," he hears below him, and he smirks weakly at the Grand Master looking up at him from the ground.

"Where's your hat, Master Kenway?" he teases in return, causing the man to roll his eyes and shake his head exasperatedly.

"Shay, get down."

The Templar shrugs and looks back towards his ship. "Why not come up here an' join me? View's great."

Haytham gives him a sour look, and Shay has to hide his mirth, because they both knew very well that the Grand Master couldn't climb a tree to save his life.

"Shay.  _Cormac_ ," Haytham says slowly, and the rouge can't hide his grin anymore, laughing at the tone the man was using.

"Alright, alright," he hums as he pulls up in a crouch, turning over to swing from the branch to a lower one, then down to the ground with a light thud of his boots beside the Templar leader. "Happy?"

"Not particularly," Kenway glares boredly at him, before waving with his hand for him to follow. "Walk with me."

Shay does, eyeing the other curiously for the order. "What's the occasion?"

"I want to discuss with you the plan for when we travel up north," Haytham starts, his hands behind his back, but his gaze focused forward.

"We… You're going up there with us?" Shay questions, slight surprise visible on his face.

"I said so before, didn't I?" Kenway stops and turns towards him. "As to answer your question, yes. I will be accompanying you there. Gist, will be staying here working on other matters."

The Irishman frowns as Kenway starts walking again, following, loyal as ever. "What is your plan, then?"

"We will head up the west path you pointed out earlier," Haytham explains. "We find Vardon's brother and find out where he is. Afterwards we take Fort Blanc."

"Why not take the fort first?" Shay frowns. "I mean no disrespect, sir, but we would cut time in half, and-"

Kenway stops him, holding out a hand. "Because if Vardon hears that we've taken the fort, it will be a warning that we are on our way to find him, and he will flee."

Shay takes that into consideration. "I suppose…"

"You should know better than anyone that to catch an Assassin, it is mandatory to have the element of surprise on your side," the other stops again, just beside another tall tree and stone fountain.

Shay smirks. "And luck."

" _Shay."_

The younger of the two laughs again, and Kenway only sighs. He was finding it harder and harder to keep Shay and his manners in line, every day that passes after the events of both Liam and Achilles's deaths. Despite the nightmares he knew kept the boy up late at night, and the guilt of what he had done, what he had to do, lingering in the back of his head, he seemed a bit more at ease. The Assassins were no longer strong and banded together, and New York was free of their crimes. Yes, they, and the Precursor Box were still out there, but they had a lead, and they were ever closer to having it within their grasp. If all went well, they would have it within a week.

That, was  _if_ Shay could really make his own luck.

…but he was so much more…animated than before, Kenway noticed. So much more alive with humor and activity. His expressions were brighter and his attitude more optimistic, his eagerness to learn more about the Order and his willingness to support it with his life growing day in and day out. Of course, that put him in dangerous situations like his current predicament, but nonetheless, he was living, and not wallowing in the dark pit of despair and guilt.

He watches Shay walk up to another tree, letting his left hand feel along the bark as he passed it. "You should let me teach you how to climb a tree," he says, mostly to himself, aloud. "You might need to one day."

"I've managed to get by quite finely on my own, Master Cormac," he answers, raising a brow as the ex-Assassin looks back at him, as if asking permission to climb the tree himself. "You need to get to bed, if you do anything at all."

Shay grins as Haytham walks up to him. "Don't want to risk ruining your nice clothes on tree bark, Master? I'm sure rooftops are just as, if not dirtier."

"Go," Haytham's tone drops. "Now."

Shay's grin doesn't falter as he holds up his hands in mock-innocence, and turns around on his heels to follow the path back to the door with Kenway right behind him. When they get inside, and Kenway turns to grab the door handles, he gives his Master Templar one last bitter look.

"And Master Cormac; make sure you close these on your way out, next time?"

Shay waves as he heads to the hallway.

"Anything you say, boss."

* * *

_Vieille Carriere  
November, 1760_

Haytham puts a steady hand on the railing to brace himself from the blast of cold, artic air that decided to charge the ship head on, as Shay maneuvers them safely around a rather large glacier. The men on board were working to both keep themselves warm and to prevent any damage to the ship, which was newly fixed with a strong hull and set of broadside cannons. He looks to his left at the captain, who had a determined look across his face, his hands tight on the wheel as he navigated them through the harsh waters.

"We're just there," he nods to the docks, and Kenway frowns at the sight of French soldiers walking along them.

"I wasn't aware this was a French base," he states, giving Shay a skeptical look. The Irishmen shrugs it off, as if it wasn't a big deal.

"I didn't bother with them. They're strugglin' anyway with the cold and lack of both military support and supplies. There's people living there, too," he answers.

Haytham doesn't say anything else about it, just purses his lips as Shay orders his men to raise the sails and drop the anchor.

Once situated at the docks, both men leave the ship and make their way up shore, meeting the suspicious looks from the French soldiers as they walked passed.

"I hope none of them recognize me," Shay murmurs as they blend in with a crowd of people into the fort. Kenway gives him a small frown.

"What did you do?"

The Templar shrugs as he starts looking around, no doubt using his second sight. "Raided this outpost. Got me quite a bit of good loot from it, too."

The Grand Master hums and looks around as well, using his own vision to spy around for the man they were looking for. Shay spots him first, tapping his arm to get his attention, pointing towards the yellow-colored man chopping wood in front of a small house. "There," he says quietly, and Haytham nods, following Shay as they carefully approached their target.

Just as they were but a few feet from him, the man looks up, sees them, and with wide eyes drops the axe in his hands and turns, running behind the house.

"Well…that went well," Shay grins.

"Go  _after_  him!" Haytham exclaims exhaustedly, throwing up his arms.

The Master Templar doesn't have to be told twice, and immediantly starts running, chasing after the man over some logs and around a another house, through the front gates of the fort.

"Help!" the man exclaims to the guards standing there, who look up at his call. "This man is trying to kill me!"

"Ah, bother," Shay grumbles, pulling out his sword and stabbing through the first guard just as he turned to face him. The second guard yells out and unsheathes his sword, but Shay throws a throwing knife at him in the forehead and keeps going, a little bit behind now from his target.

He chases him around the fort and up the snowy hill, passed some yelling civilians they startled and a few more houses. The man takes a sharp turn, about to run through two buildings, when Shay takes the chance to shoot him in the leg.

The man lets out a pained cry and trips in the snow, falling into the powdery white and leaving a freshly made blood trail in his wake. He tries to crawl away, but yells out as Haytham steps around the corner, blocking his possible and only escape. Shay walks up to him, leaning down to grab him by the collar of his coat and pull him face to face.

"Your brother. Where can I find him?"

The man looks up at him with pure and absolute terror. "I-I don't know! He came and warned me someone may come looking for him, but he never told me why or where he was going!"

"I hardly believe that," Kenway steps around, behind Shay to glare at the man himself. "If you value your life, you will tell us where he is."

The man bites his tongue, his green eyes darting back and forth between both Shay and Haytham, as if trying to make up his mind.

"If you don't talk," the former threatens, "we'll force it out of you, then kill you. I'd recommend you take the easy way."

The man's mouth drops open, before he groans and finally spills. "F-Fort Louis."

"Why?" Kenway presses, reaching for his sword for good measure. The man gulps and continues.

"N-Not sure…why exactly. He said something about passing a special package to another one of his associates."

"Fort Louis was abandoned because of the heavy damage," Shay turns and looks up at Kenway. "It was practically sinkin' into the ocean."

"We'll start there," Haytham states as he points to the man bleeding on the ground. "We take him to New York." Addressing the man himself, he adds: "You had better have told us the truth, or your punishment will be severe."

"W-Wait I-!"

He doesn't get to finish, as Shay puts a sleep dart in his arm.

Lifting the man over his shoulder, the Irishman raises a brow. "So, to Fort Blanc?"

"Yes," Haytham turns, the two heading back to the ship. "Then we drop him off at the manor, and then sail to Fort Louis."

Shay nods. "Sounds like a plan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't sure where to end this chapter, but decided that if I added more to it, it would either never end or be far too long. Thank you for all the kind reviews so far. Wasn't expecting such a happy response to this story. Next chapter has quite a bit of Shaytham angst, so prepare yourselves.
> 
> -Anonymoux


	4. Chapter Three - Strike a Match

**Chapter Three – Strike a Match**

_New York City, New York  
November, 1760_

"So, we just keep him as a hostage until we find his brother?" Shay asks as the two walk, the Irishman just a step or two ahead of the Grand Master, who nods.

"Yes, and if we must use him as a source of blackmail, we will," he replies, putting his hands behind his back.

Shay swerves to his left to avoid crashing into an angry looking woman, frowning slightly. "Then what? We goin' to let him go, or kill him?"

Kenway gives the Templar a questioning look, raising a brow. "Most likely the latter, Master Cormac, why?"

The boy shrugs, not meeting his gaze. "Just think it's not fair to him. He obviously doesn't even know who the Assassins are, or that his brother was one. He doesn't know who we are, or why we're doing what we're doing."

Haytham continues to give him a confused look. "You believe we should just let him go?"

"The more I think about it; yes," he answers. "Didn't Lawrence Washington ask you to leave his younger brother alone, so he didn't become an Assassin target? It goes the other way around, right? What good are we to the world, if we can't show mercy?"

Whatever Kenway had ready to say was wrecked by Shay's questions. As much as he wanted to deny it, the boy had a point. This man was as innocent as George Washington; oblivious to the true nature of their brothers' jobs.

Shay was right.

"I suppose so," the Grand Master finally admits. "Depending on how well this goes, if you wish for him to live, he will."

Shay smiles. "Thank you." Spotting his ship from behind Fort Arsenal, he looks back at the other. "So, to Fort Louis?"

The man nods. "Yes. Supply your ship with what we will need, then we make haste."

Shay nods. "It shouldn't take too long. An hour at the…" he stops.

Whispers.

Haytham frowns at Shay's pause, watching him slow his walk and hold out an arm to slow him as well, his eyes narrowed and suddenly alert. He knew Shay's second sight extended to his ears as well; a unique ability never heard of before. The ex-Assassin was focused as he attempted to pinpoint the source of the noises he was hearing.

The moment Shay stops walking, Haytham knows he's found it.

"How many?" he asks quietly. Shay nods forward.

"Four. One behind us, one on that roof, one around that corner, and one sitting on that bench."

Using his own vision, he spots them for himself, glancing behind him to see the Assassin following them, walking closer to them through the crowd of people.

"I'll get the one behind us," he starts, as Shay reaches in his belt pouch to grab a small knife.

"Go now," the boy replies, before flinging the knife with incredible aim at the Assassin on the roof, right in the side of his head. He takes off forward, and Kenway turns around to grab the one behind him, stabbing him through the throat with his hidden blade.

Shay meanwhile pulls out the smaller of his two swords, striking right in the back of the woman who had jumped up from the bench as her dead comrade fell from the roof above her. The Assassin around the corner runs out at the sound of blades and civilians screaming, only to be ended by a bullet in the head as Kenway turned around and pulled the trigger of his gun.

Shay stands up, removing his sword from the Assassin's body and sheathing it, as Haytham runs up to him, putting his gun away.

"Guards! Help!" are the screams of people all around, and the two Templars share exasperated looks before bolting; British soldiers yelling as they attempted to chase them.

They take an alley, through someone's yard and underneath their laundry line, over a few picket fences and around a corner, dodging trash cans and stray cats, over a homeless man lying on the ground, before turning left and out onto the crowded street, over the bridge and passed two of Shay's guards at Fort Arsenal, who stopped the three British soldiers hollering at them.

The two jog up to the entrance of the building, opening up the door and shutting it quickly behind them. They stop, both of them panting, looking up when Gist clears his throat.

"Uhh…afternoon run?"

He watches as both men look at each other, Shay smirking, and Haytham  _actually smirks back._

"Something of the sort," the Grand Master answers, and Shay laughs.

Gist only stares in slight surprise. So the two had  _inside jokes_ now? He only slightly wondered if they were both drunk, drugged, or both.

* * *

_North Atlantic_

 

" _I thought I heard the Old Man say, 'Leave her Johnny, leave her!' Tomorrow you will get your pay, and it's time, for us, to leave her…"_

Shay had a small smile on his face as he listened to his crew sing their shanties, one hand on the wheel as he guided the  _Morrigan_ up further and further north. It shouldn't take them too much longer to get to Fort Louis, he thought to himself. The ocean was fairly calm, the wind on their side today as it pushed them steadily along the North Atlantic.

Gist stood on his left, whistling along with the crew's song, while Haytham stood on his right, hands on the railing in front of him, watching the northern lights wave through the night sky in greens and blues.

It was these calm times that Shay really appreciated. After taking the  _Morrigan_ and sailing her for the first time, the Assassin at the time would spend many nights just sailing like this, with his crew singing contently and Liam talking with him about their childhood together, before life, before trauma, pulled them away from each other.

He missed Liam.

Truly  _missed_ Liam.

The Liam that stood up for him when he was bullied around. Pulled him away from bar fights before he got hurt. Beat up those sick freaks that tried to kidnap him when he was too drunk to know where he was. The Liam that hugged him and let him cry when his father was killed…

"Shay?"

The now-Templar blinks out of his thoughts at Gist's call, seeing both he and Kenway giving him almost concerned looks. "You alright, Captain?" the man continues, as Shay clears his throat.

"Aye, just thinking…"

Gist grins. "Well, you almost 'thinked' your way into that glacier. It's a good thing the wind is looking out for us."

Shay rolls his eyes, but smiles.

At least he had Gist, Weeks… Haytham…

They may not be the friends and family he grew up with, but they were the people to take him in at his worst and bring him up to be better.

At first, it hadn't been about the Templars, or their Order. It was about saving the world, avenging all the lives lost because of that damn Precursor Box, and repaying his debt to Monro. Monro wanted Shay to join the Order, to better help the world. He did in the man's honor, and with each passing day, he knows more and more that it was the right decision.

"Fort Louis, Captain!" one of his crew members call out, pointing towards the crumbling structure jotting out of the sea.

"It still looks abandoned," Gist comments, giving Shay a skeptical look.

"Better a place to smuggle ancient artifacts, without gettin' caught," Shay answers. "I wouldn't doubt if there's a good amount of Assassins hiding there."

"The British should have at least kept the fort under watchful eye," Kenway frowns. "In the wrong hands, falling apart or not, this place is a danger to any ships that sail passed it."

"I think they could have fixed it up," Gist adds. "They were just too lazy."

"Or stupid," Shay corrects, and his first mate laughs in return.

Docking the ship, the three men exchange looks. It was quiet, but for all they knew it was just a trap, and the Assassins were ready to ambush them.

"Gist, stay here and be ready to move her if things go awry," Shay orders, and the man nods.

Jumping from ship to broken dock, both Shay and Haytham slowly make their way up towards the entrance; Shay listening for enemies, and Haytham looking for them.

The fort walls are crumbling and nearly all torn down, wood planks and posts laying smashed and splintered everywhere. Snow is covering almost everything in a thin, white layer, crunching under their boots as they walked slowly into the fort.

It was still and quiet, the air heavy and cold with tension and a bitter anticipation. Shay listens for any possible threat, but hears nothing but the howl of wind in his ears as it glides passed him.

"Anything?" Haytham asks beside him, and Shay shakes his head.

"Nothing, but that doesn't mean they're not here."

The Grand Master hums in agreement, turning to look down an old, worn, snow covered path leading into another yard. He tried with his Eagle Vision again, as they got closer.

He saw them the moment Shay heard them.

They take cover as two Assassins walk by the bridge over the path, towards a building with two more Assassins standing guard. There was a large, large group inside, there having to be at least twenty or more Assassins in there, and more in the building next to it.

"What did I say?" Shay asks quietly with narrowed eyes. "There's Vardon."

Haytham finds the man in yellow, his own eyes narrowed. "He has the box. We need to get it from him."

"We're heavily outnumbered," Shay looks back at him. "We need a plan, or we'll be losing more than what we came here for."

"A distraction," Haytham thinks out loud, turning to look at a large amount of gunpowder sitting in barrels under a shed, three Assassins talking amongst each other right by it. "Do you have any of those fire cracker darts?"

Shay reaches into one of his belt pouches, pulling out one of the mentioned darts. "I do, and I see where you're going with this." He loads it into his rifle and aims it at the barrels, Haytham getting ready to move it the moment the boy pulls the trigger.

The barrels explode in a fiery mess and loud boom, killing all three Assassins at once, and getting the attention of the ones inside both buildings. The explosion takes out a large section of the fort's walls, while flames start spreading along the wooden beams and dried grass and hay just untouched by the snow.

"We're under attack!" one of the Assassins yells, as a group of them run out. Haytham and Shay make a run for it, hiding in shrubs just inside the yard. Shay grabs one of the men running passed them, killing him with his hidden blade and laying him in the shrubs behind him. Kenway does the same and they creep forward through the bushes, both praying none of these Assassins had Eagle Vision.

"Where are they?" someone yells, and Shay kills two more simultaneously as he approaches them. Haytham watches as Vardon runs out, his eyes narrowed as he searched the area for them.

Unfortunately, it seemed he did posses Eagle Vision, because just two seconds later, he's pointing directly at the two Templars.

"Shit!" Shay exclaims as he pulls out his sword, just narrowly missing the first Assassin that attacked him. Kenway pulls out his own weapon, fighting off two men that ran right to him as well.

Shay stabs one man through the chest with his right sword and slices through another's throat with his left, while Haytham fires his gun through the eyes of one man and stabs another through the shoulder. One Assassin fires his gun at them and Shay just dodges it, as a support beam explodes nearby as the flames consume it, tumbling down and almost smashing him beneath it. Haytham curses as one Assassin slices his left arm with the blade of his sword, before kicking the man's legs out beneath him and slashing across his neck. Shay stumbles backwards as one of the large men runs towards him with an axe, swinging it and just shy of taking his head off. He ducks as the axe swings again, but stumbles back into another Assassin who swung his sword at his back.

"Dammit!" Shay hisses as he falls forward, rolling over to the side just in time to avoid an axe to his face. He rolls to his feet and swings his sword once more to stab the guy through the chest, pulling his own gun out to shoot the guy who got him in the back.

Another support beam cracks and thunders loudly as it splits at its base and starts to fall, Shay's eyes widening as he watches it fall.

"Master Kenway!" he exclaims, running forward to push the man out of the way.

He's too late.

The beam falls on both Haytham and the man he had been fighting, knocking him on his back as the fiery post landed on top of his stomach.

Shay slides down to kneel beside the man, grabbing at the beam and trying to lift it with all the strength he had.

"Vardon!" Kenway exclaims, before coughing and spitting out blood. "He's getting away!"

"Let him go!" Shay yells, starting to panic. "We need to get you out of here!"

"Goddammit, Shay!" Haytham yells, looking up and shooting the Assassin that was running towards them. "You can't let him get away with the box!"

"I'm not leaving you here to die!" Shay argues, again trying to lift the beam, his boots digging into the ground as he attempts to take on the weight of it.

"That's an  _order, Shay!"_ Kenway nearly growls, before coughing up more blood.

The boy shakes his head. "I can't…"

He wouldn't leave him here. Damn the box and damn Vardon…he wasn't going to let Haytham die here.

He lets out a grunt as he manages to get the beam up, hearing Kenway fire another shot at another Assassin in vain attempt to keep them both alive. Someone yells that they need to get out of there before the place falls into the ocean, and Shay feels another surge of anxiety fill him with adrenaline, just enough to lift the beam off of the Grand Master.

"Move out!" he yells, and Haytham does, rolling out and coughing up more blood, holding his abdomen in pain as he tries to get himself on his knees. Shay drops the support beam and runs over to his leader, throwing his left arm over his shoulder and helping him to his feet.

"We need to get out of here…" he huffs, turning the two of them around and making way for the nearest opening, where he can see the  _Morrigan_ sail nearer with Gist waiving at them. Kenway coughs again, the both of them flinching as another explosion goes off, someone in the distance screaming as he's caught on fire. They make it to the hole in the wall, limping through it, another explosion going off right behind them.

"We need to jump," Shay breathes, his hold on Haytham tightening. The Grand Master nods, and just when the final explosion shakes the ground and breaks the wall apart behind them, they both jump, feeling the heat of flames on their backs as they missed being scorched alive, diving into the water with a cold splash.

Shay surfaces, still with a hold on Haytham. They manage to swim to the ship, Gist and the crew leaning over the side to help pull them up. They all turn and watch what's left of the fort, crumble apart into the ocean.

"That…could have went better…?" Gist tries, turning to look at both injured men; Shay covered in blood and Haytham holding his torso as if his life depended on it.

The Grand Master also looked pissed.

He turns to Shay, pointing back towards the fort.

" _That,_ was our only lead in the Precursor Box, and you let it get away!"

Gist's mouth drops open, and Shay stares at the man in slight shock.

Then Shay's eyes narrow.

"So I should have let you die?" he snaps, angrier than anyone has ever heard him sound. Kenway only glares at him.

"Nothing, is more important than that box," he takes a step towards the other, menacingly. "I gave you an order, you disobeyed. Now the Assassins have the box, and we don't know where to!"

"Nothing?" Shay questions, sounding choked. "And what would have happened if you died and I still couldn't get to Vardon in time? Then how much better would that have been?"

"You would have the box!" Kenway throws the arm up that isn't holding his stomach. "For all we know they could be on their way to another Precursor Temple, and yet again destroy it!"

"That's all you care about, isn't it?!" Shay yells back. "Those damn temples hardly matter in any of this. It's the people that will be killed if those temples are interfered with."

Kenway's wvoice lowers considerably. "And those people will die because you thought one life was worth all of theirs."

Gist and the crew members feel the burn of his words themselves, watching with wide eyes as Shay stares, looking almost betrayed, horrified.

"It takes," Shay starts quietly, "one life, to make a million. Maybe, you should learn the difference, between your damn Order, and the people who would die in your name."

He turns around, stomping across the ship to his cabin, slamming the door shut behind him.

Haytham stands there, looking almost dazed, as Gist slowly makes his way to the wheel.

"Let's get back to New York," the man says to the crew members, who glared at Kenway as they lowered the sails and prepared the ship for home.

* * *

_Kenway Manor  
New York City, New York_

 

"Pneumonia," Dr. Andrews says with narrowed eyes. "I told you he needed two weeks of rest."

Kenway only stares blankly across the room, one hand playing with a feather, the other holding his chin up. "How bad is it?" he asks quietly.

The doctor lets out an aggravated sigh. "Bad, Kenway. It's bad. It looks like he's had it for some time, but the symptoms haven't shown until now. Ice water can do that to a person."

The Grand Master closes his eyes and rubs them tiredly. "And his injuries?"

Andrews scoffs. "Well, because the old ones didn't have the proper  _time_  to  _heal_ , many of them have reopened, and the one on his back caused him to lose a lot more blood than he should have lost. He's in bad shape. If the pneumonia doesn't kill him, it's going to take almost a month now for him to fully recover." When Kenway doesn't answer, or even look at him, the doctor continues: "As for you, you need at least a week or two to heal up. Your lucky he got you out of there when he did, or you would have died for sure."

The man lets out a sigh of his own and waves the doctor away. "Very well. Anything I need to know or do to help with his sickness?"

Andrews only frowns. "He needs sleep. Keep a watch on his temperature. Make sure he eats and sleeps properly."

Haytham nods, but is quiet, not even looking at the doctor. Andrews frowns at him, before sighing again and shaking his head.

"In all respect, Kenway," he starts, his voice a bit softer. "You seem to have a bad habit of using your friends as weapons." This earns him a confused look from the Templar, and he continued: "You need to learn the difference between work and people, especially the one that would take a bullet for you."

Kenway's brows furrow and he turns away from him. "You're dismissed…" he grumbles, and Andrews in turn glares at him.

"Very well, but this is it, Kenway. I don't want to hear of any more accidents like this. Shay's a good kid. He would do anything for you, because you're all he has left."

He turns and leaves at that, with Haytham to sit and ponder his words. He wasn't sure how to feel about anything, anymore. If Shay were any other person, he would have killed him for not only disobeying the Order, but arguing with him as well, and letting their only lead on the Precursor Box escape.

…but this was  _Shay,_ and Shay was different. He couldn't figure out why, or how, but when it came to Shay it was as if everything Kenway was known throughout the Order for crumbled into nothing. Shay made him feel things he couldn't fully understand, if at all. He kept telling himself it was because he needed Shay in the Order, but…

He just didn't know.

He rubs a hand over his face and stares blankly for a moment, before deciding to pull out his journal from his desk and flip it open to a new page. He writes the date, and then keeps going…

…and he writes everything about Shay Patrick Cormac since the day he first heard his name.


	5. Chapter Four - Cross Walks and Crossed Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He cursed himself again, this time out loud. What was wrong with him? Why did all his feelings he kept so suppressed and sealed away come pouring out whenever Shay was involved? He was never this uncertain or out of himself. The only time he had ever acted like this, was when he was with…
> 
> He freezes in his chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's been a while. A lot of unfortunate things went down recently in my life and spiraled out of control…now I'm getting on vacation and finally updating all of my stories. I'm sorry for the long wait, but shit happens, and you just gotta roll with it. I am happy to finally be back, however; I've missed these stories and I've missed you guys, so with that, you can look forward to future updates scattered within the next month or so.
> 
> Anonymoux

**Chapter Four – Cross Walks and Crossed Hearts**

_New York City, New York_  
November, 1760  
Kenway Manor

He would drop books off at Shay's room, entering with only two knocks each time he visited.

Shay never even acknowledged him.

The Irishman was usually reading, laying on the bed or sitting in the large chair beside the window. He never looked up at him, never said a word to him. The tension in the room was always heavy when Haytham walked in; bringing either food or books, or just to see if the boy was healing okay.

His fever would shoot up and down, his coughing would get worse or better. Whether or not the pneumonia was really bothering him, or how badly it was, was hard to determine. Shay was good at masking pain or discomfort.

He always has been, as long as Kenway has known him.

It felt as though the Templar was avoiding him, or simply ignoring him. Their fight was still fresh on both of their minds, building up a wall between them that had never been there before.

It was bothering him.

So he wrote about it. Wrote about Shay every passing day, everything about him, to his appearance, his personality, what he did each day and what kind of mood he was in.

He stares down at the pages now, following the words with his eyes but not really reading them. It seemed like no matter how much he wrote, he just couldn't write enough.

Like he was missing something.

"Master Kenway?"

He looks up, a bit startled by the fact that he didn't hear or sense Gist walk in his office. Was he really that out of it?

"Yes?" he answers almost hesitantly, inwardly cursing himself with embarrassment. Gist gives him a questioning look.

"You asked to see me?" the first mate frowns, noticing the other's disgruntlement. Haytham blinks, staring at him for a moment, as if lost, before he seems to realize where he was and what was going on.

"Yes," he forces out, almost too quickly, trying to regain his composure. "I'm expecting a package to be delivered to me soon, but the problem is it is of high value. I want you to go and make sure it arrives here, safely."

Gist nods, still with that serious frown that was unusual for him to have. "Alright." He turns to leave, then stops and looks back at the Grand Master. "Is…Shay okay?"

Haytham looks back at him, seeing the concern sketched all across the man's face.

"He's…faring," is what he answers. "I'm going to check on him in a few moments."

Gist nods again, looking unsure. "Very well… Just worried is all."

He leaves at that, with Haytham by himself to stare blankly across the room. He absolutely  _had_ to keep himself and his thoughts in check. He couldn't be caught off guard like that ever again.

Leaning back in his chair, he looks up at the ceiling, before frowning at it. There was a small skylight that let sun through during the day, in the center of the room, slightly over his desk. He should probably get that closed…he thinks with a deeper frown. The last thing he needed was an Assassin jumping on him from above.

The light from it however was letting in just enough moonlight to cast a soft glow on everything in the room. It made him think of sailing with Shay on the  _Morrigan._

He felt guilty.

He cursed himself again, this time out loud. What was  _wrong_ with him? Why did all his feelings he kept so suppressed and sealed away come pouring out whenever Shay was involved? He was never this uncertain or out of himself. The only time he had ever acted like this, was when he was with…

He freezes in his chair.

Ziio.

There…was no way… There just couldn't be… It wasn't possible, was it? To have the same feelings for Shay…as he did Ziio?

Did he…?

Haytham was not ignorant, nor was he dull. He could figure the most complicated of things out down to the bare truth, no matter how ugly or how he disagreed with it. The fact that the theory between Shay and Ziio was now in his head, there was no avoiding it.

Hell, what has he gotten himself into?

It wasn't the thought of Shay being another  _man;_ his father had some…rather interesting stories regarding his own  _relationships,_ and even Gist…it was the fact that it was  _someone._ He had strong feelings for someone, yet again, and the last time he did, didn't turn out so well for him.

...but Shay was  _in_  the Order. He wouldn't have to choose between the two.

…but he would, he suddenly thinks.

The conversation with Andrews played back in his head, his fight with Shay, and how he felt on the whole situation.

Shay would never let anything happen to him, even if it compromised the Order, which, was one of the three tenants. He already broke that rule when he saved Haytham's life.

…and Haytham would have done the same thing.

He closes his eyes, rubbing them and clenching his teeth. He would break the very foundation upon which he built, for another person, simply because he held that person close and dear to his heart.

This could  _not_  be happening…

_If,_ he were to pursue his feelings for Shay, he would be sacrificing the entire Templar Order and the world it was trying to save. However, even if he didn't establish anything with the boy, the feelings would always be there to haunt him.

He would have to send Shay away, or kill him.

As long as Shay was around, everything would always be on the brink of collapsing, exactly like Lisbon had. He was running through that burning city with Shay in tow, trying to save the both of them, together.

He wanted to change Shay. Wanted to grow him. Wanted him to be the best out of all of them. Wanted to raise him like a young eagle and turn him into a flaming phoenix. Wanted  _him_.

There were two paths in front of him.

He was going to have to make a choice.

Lose the Order…

Or lose Shay.

Only one could live.

There's a third option that crosses his mind, one that would let both Shay and the Order live, but…

…he wouldn't be part of that future.

* * *

Pushing the door open, he frowns as he finds Shay sitting on the chair beside the window, his feet propped up on the table beside it, facing outside to the lights of his ship in the distance. There was a book in his lap, but he wasn't reading it. Just staring outside, probably thinking about sailing with his crew, taking over other ships and all the money he could make.

Shay reminded him of his father countless times. The free spirit and way he lived on the sea, the stories and large heart he had. His no sense of shame and strong will to do what's right.

Shay was too good for this world.

"Did you need something?"

…and it's the first thing Shay has said to him since their fight. He surprisingly sounds soft, not angry or bitter, looking back at the Grand Master with simply curious eyes. He looks better than he has in a while, now. He's gotten sleep, and the antibiotics seemed to have helped his sickness.

Haytham supposed Andrews had been exaggerating to scare him.

"I simply came to check on you," he says, stepping over to look out of the window, not meeting the other's watchful gaze. "How are you feeling?"

Shay shrugs, looking back out as well. "Fine, I s'pose. I'm pretty sure I've read every single book you own though, besides that journal of yours."

Haytham turns and raises a suspicious brow at his Templar. "How did you find out about that?"

Shay's lips turn up in a small smirk. "Saw you writin' in it one time on the ship. You ever plan on sharing?"

The man gives him a tired look. "No, and don't ask."

"I'm bored, though," Shay slightly pouts, looking at his ship on the other side of New York. "I have to find that box. I should have already had it. I should never have lost it."

Again, Kenway feels guilt creep into his stomach. "You didn't ask for it to be taken in the first place, Shay. You've done more for the Order than anyone has in the last so many years. Do not blame yourself."

"You blame me," Shay states lowly, avoiding his stare.

Haytham blinks. "Perhaps we've had a slip up, but you've proven yourself capable of fixing things back into order. I should have been more careful to begin with. I'm not mad with you. You saved my life, I couldn't ever be mad at you."

…and as he says this, he knows it's true. Hell, maybe he had been overthinking things. Shay  _saved_ the Order by saving  _him._

"You mean that?" Shay asks quietly, finally looking at him.

Haytham nods. "I'd say it again if I had to."

The boy smiles softly. The week of tension and hurt between them seemed to finally be over.

"We will look into Vardon's whereabouts when you're capable of being on your feet again," Haytham continues. "I'm afraid Andrews may kill us both if we try to hunt him down any sooner."

Shay laughs now. "I wasn't the only one injured, Master Kenway. You have a limp in your walk."

Haytham rolls his eyes, but can't stop the smirk from pulling his lips up on one side. "You're a bad influence."

"I only serve to please, boss," Shay smirks back, his tone lower than Haytham could handle. Trying to fight the flush of heat into his cheeks at the statement between the lines, the Grand Master turns away and begins to head to the door.

"You should get to bed, Master Cormac. I'll see about getting you outside tomorrow."

Shay chuckles, watching Haytham open the door. "Did I make you blush?"

Haytham stops and glares back at him. "We really need to work on that mouth of yours."

He regrets those words immediantly, as he watches a devilish grin curve Shay's lips.

"Why? This mouth of mine can already do some amazing things. I could always—"

Haytham just turns and slams the door shut, ignoring Shay's laughter echoing through the hallways.

* * *

_Time Unknown_  
Location Unknown  
ERROR AU79364ST0000000% &%0$#000

" _I told you not to come back here until you had the Precursor Box," the man says bitterly, throwing his journal as well as a few other books together and into a satchel. Shay frowns, watching him with a longing feeling wedged in his chest, threatening to cut his breath off and leave him choking._

" _Don't act like you don't miss me," he tries, leaning on the edge of the desk, continuing to watch. "Besides, I know where it is."_

_The two of them were older, grey tinting their once dark hair, a few more facial lines than before, but still strong and powerful, nonetheless. Some things never change, he thinks to himself, as he watches Haytham stop to glare at him. "Then why haven't you gone after it, yet?"_

_Shay feels his chest tighten. "Because I wanted to see you, one last time."_

_The cabin went silent, the only sounds being that of the creaking of the ship, the howl of the wind outside. Haytham stares at him, his expression blank, but his eyes lost. "What do you mean, last time?"_

_The Templar closes his eyes and looks down, taking in a deep breath and letting out an exhausted sigh. "The man that has it is a Master Assassin, Charles Dorian, and he lives in Versailles, France. Once I have the box, I am taking it somewhere no one could or would find it, and ending this."_

_Haytham fully turns to face him now, taking a step towards him. "You are to bring it back to me, Shay."_

_Shay shakes his head. "I cannot. I watched the Assassins die out because of this box. I'd be damned to watch you die, too. I'm taking the box to a land far down south, colder than the man can bare, alone. I will never see you again."_

_The Grand Master shakes his head, reaching forward to grab the other's shoulders. "You will not. You're not killing yourself over this. We will find another way. That's an order."_

_Shay only shakes his head. "I don't want to put anyone else in danger. So many have died because of this box. I can't…"_

_A hand grabs the side of his face, tilting his head to meet the blue-grey eyes of Haytham Kenway. "Shay," the man starts, his tone soft yet firm, "Do not go through with this. Get the box. Bring it back to me. After I settle matters with this war, I will go with you, and together we will put an end to it. You have to promise me you will return."_

_He sounds as if he's pleading. Shay swallows the painful lump in his throat, nodding. "As...long as you promise to be alive when I come back."_

_Haytham pulls him forward, resting their foreheads together. They close their eyes, holding on to each other, just feeling the presence of each other to soothe their heart-wrenching emotions._

" _I promise."_

… _and suddenly Shay is staring at a letter in his hands, one from Haytham himself, the world around him in slow motion as he re-reads the words, over and over again._

' _If you're reading this, Shay, I'm sorry, but I've broken our promise. Please, do not blame Connor for this. Just take care of yourself.'_

_He was gone._

_All the work he went through, for Haytham, was pointless now. He had nothing left for him after he got the box. No where to go to. No one to go to._

_He was utterly, and truly, alone._

* * *

_Present Day_

"Another glitch," Violet explains. "It's like the numbskull is living both sets of memories at once."

Berg glares at the screen. "Whatever Shay does after he kills Charles Dorian, is what's responsible for this. Whatever that virus was that was opened…"

Costa chews on the inside of her cheek. "It wasn't a virus at all… It's like something in the system today is reacting to whatever Piece of Eden Shay used then."

"We need to find out what, exactly," the man pulls away, heading to leave. "History itself is being altered before our very eyes."

"Berg-…" Violet calls, turning her chair, watching him pause in the doorway. He looks back at her with a raised brow, and she nods towards the screen beside her. "Have you noticed…the interactions with both Shay and Haytham…and even in this future memory…do they seem…awfully close to you?"

Berg frowns, his eyes glancing at the screen on the woman's desk. "They have…a unique relationship. If you are implying that they could have been, say,  _together,_ then it would explain why Shay did what he did to turn back time. Just keep watching and see. We'll find out sooner than later."

Violet nods, turning back towards her computer with a nod, as he leaves her office.

"Well, we have Jacob Frye as our first bisexual Assassin, and here we have our first bisexual Templars. It's like a trend, now," she smirks, typing away as she continues watching the memories.

" _You did leave your communicator on, you know,"_ she hears Berg from said device, and her grin grows.

"How come every time you get too involved in certain people, they always turn out gay? You not telling me something?" she asks, before she hears the line cut out.

He obviously wasn't amused.

* * *

_New York City, New York_  
November, 1760  
Kenway Manor

"Are you absolutely sure?" the man asks with furrowed brows, walking at a brisk pace with a medium sized box in his arms.

Gist nods, glancing at the box. It was a wooden chest a deep oak color, embroidered with gold and topaz. "It's a good thing they had that hidden, Master Kenway, otherwise that sniveling bastard would have taken it."

Haytham's eyes narrow as he pushes the door to his office open with a boot, carrying the box over to his desk to set it there with a heavy thump. "Was there anyone left alive?"

The first mate shakes his head solemnly. "I'm afraid not. The whole ship was just a bloody mess; those who weren't fed to the ocean barely in recognizable pieces."

"It's a message," the Grand Master spits venomously. "He's going to come here to save his brother, and kill us."

Gist watches Haytham step around the table, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "We need guard set up," the Templar leader says, "but not security. I want to know when Vardon will be here, but I want him to come to me. The less men I lose, the better."

The other nods, turning to leave. "I'll get everything set up. Did…did you want me to let Shay know?"

Haytham shakes his head. "I will speak with him."

The man frowns but nods again. "Very well."

With that, he leaves Kenway alone, who looks at the chest his sister had sent him. He unlatches it and opens it, before his mouth drops open in shock.

The first thing that catches his eye is the hidden blade that sat snugly in between rolls of paper and a smaller box. He pulls it out and turns it over in his hands, recognizing it immediantly.

_Father left his hidden blade behind?_ he thinks, confused as ever. The Assassins were always buried with their blades, so why hadn't his father have the same tradition? The leather of the gauntlet was only slightly worn from his father's adventures, melted some under the blade and its sheath where the Caribbean sun baked it away. The blade had various cuts and nics in it, but still had its sharp edge as if it was still as good as new. The skull at the bottom of the sheath was a little worn, covered in dark smudges from the lack of polish.

His father used to tell him the story of how he had such a hard time figuring out how to use the damn weapon. No matter what he tried he just couldn't get the blade to shoot out. Then, when he was being tested as an Assassin, which he was pretending to be at the time, he somehow got it to work naturally without really understanding how. It was his favorite weapon, then, and stayed to be. There was so much power behind it, and he kept it his entire life.

Now, here he was, holding it.

Carefully putting it down, he reaches into the chest and pulls out the smaller box, opening it as well. He pulls out a folded black material, confused as to what it may be. Unfolding it, he stares and marvels at the first flag his father ever had made for his ship; all black with a white Assassin symbol on it, a pirate skull in the center. It was smaller than the second one he made after he finished upgrading his  _Jackdaw_  to his liking, but was still meaningful, nonetheless. It felt as if it had been washed and kept safely away for many, many years, the only signs of use being the cuts in the edges and a small hole near the symbol in the center.

He continues going through his father's belongings, finding the charts and maps his sister had mentioned, as well as other small trinkets that Captain Kenway collected throughout his time. Maybe he should show these to Shay. The boy would certainly appreciate them, he knows.

"Master Kenway?"

Speak of the devil, he thinks with a small smile, looking up to the rogue walking in almost hesitantly. He was…fully dressed, as if he were ready to go out on his ship and sail away.

"Shay…and what might you be planning?" he asks with a small frown. The boy shrugs not-so-casually; an obvious sign of what he was going to say.

"I was hoping to, just go out to the  _Morrigan._ Check up on her and her crew is all…" He eyes the chest and its contents scattered across the desk. Haytham can tell he wants to ask about it, but for some reason the question refuses to break his lips.

He thinks about Shay's request, looking him over. He wasn't fully recovered, but his pneumonia seemed to have passed safely by. As long as he was only going to the ship…

Then again…

If Vardon was planning an attack on the manor, it would probably be wiser to not have Shay around when it happened. He didn't need any more injuries or excuses to get hurt, and he doubted Vardon would be stupid enough to target Fort Arsenal, with how strong the place was now.

"You can go, if you're asking permission," he answers, watching Shay flush just slightly. He can see a light go up in the Templar's eyes, a look of surprise taking hold of his face.

"I…figured so…I was going to go anyway," he pauses, watching Kenway raise a brow, quickly trying to recover himself. "I meant, I just wanted to let you know so you…knew…"

"Shay, go," Haytham has to try to not smirk, watching the other quickly turn on his heels.

"Already on it," he mutters, heading through the door.

It would be best if Shay didn't know about Vardon's visit. He would want to stay and try to take the man himself. Haytham looks down at the belongings on his desk, frowning to himself as he starts to put them back into the chest.

Hopefully he wouldn't need Shay in the inevitable.

* * *

The Templar can only smile as he steps onto his ship, enjoying the feel of the cool, salty air on his skin, the sound of the gulls cawing stupidly at each other, his men cheering as they greeted him aboard. After talking and laughing with them a moment, the captain makes his way to his cabin, closing the door behind him to a room he missed dearly.

He missed his whole ship.

If it weren't for the fact that he had a responsibility to uphold, he would have sailed away by now. Just left to the wind singing shanties with his crew. It was his life. Everything about his ship and being able to sail wherever he wanted with no restraints, was the perfect life to him. It was all he wanted, all he needed to be happy. He missed it, he could tell his crew missed it, and hopefully soon he would be able to venture out again, living the dream he missed oh so dearly.

If only he could find that box…

The thought that he had been so close, almost within fingertips reach of the box, then lost it, drove him mad every passing day he sat in his room, staring out at the water and wondering if it had been the right thing to do. Haytham had been so…angry with him. He had never seen the man so angry like that, and to his own face…

The only relief he felt was when Haytham decided to finally talk with him about it, and admit that he wasn't mad at him. Even now, however, he still wondered if things could have gone differently, or even better.

He walks through his cabin, around the table to stand at it and go over his charts. They still had Vardon's brother, and the Assassin should know that by now. More than likely he would plan an attack on the manor in a rescue mission, and to possibly get a score at assassinating Haytham. It was almost scary, to him, how he knew exactly how the Assassin would do it. After all, he once  _was_  an Assassin as well. The only issue was figuring out  _when_ Vardon would strike…

Maybe he  _shouldn't_ have left the manor, he suddenly thinks. Now come to think about it, where was Gist? Didn't he say he was going to stay on the ship? And Kenway let him leave, which he's been so prohibiting about the entire time he's been recovering…

Shay stands up straight, his eyes widening.

That bastard…

* * *

Kenway frowns as he heads up the stairs to his office. Why make it hard for Vardon to find him? Little did the Assassin know his brother has been moved to a new location, so his visit tonight would be pointless in his favor.

"How do you know he'll come tonight?" Weeks asks behind him, unsure.

Kenway opens the door to his office, heading to sit down. "He will. He wouldn't wait much longer after leaving a message, knowing that we can kill or move his brother in an instant."

Weeks shrugs. "Which we've already done."

The Grand Master sits in his chair and pulls out the paperwork he needed to do, as well as the half-written letter to his sister he needed to finish. "Stay out of his range and keep alert," he orders, not looking up from his papers. "I'll be doing my work."

Weeks frowns, the same unsure frown pulling his lips down. "Very well, sir."

He leaves at that, shutting the door behind him. Kenway takes in a breath and closes his eyes for a moment, hoping that Shay didn't return before Vardon got here. Hopefully he loses track of time and returns too late.

* * *

The guard frowns as he walks over to his comrade, both bearing muskets in arms, ready for any sign of intruder. "Anything?" he asks, to which the other shakes his head.

"No, not a thing. You think this guy's gonna show up?"

The first guard shrugs. "Beats me. I honestly hope not. I don't feel like being killed tonight. Got a family to get home to."

The second guard nods. "Same here. Wife made dinner thinking I was going to be home for it. Had to tell her I couldn't make it cause of the long shift tonight."

The first shrugs. "My wife doesn't know how to cook. Can make a killer drink, though."

The second turns and gives his friend a slow, questionable look. Before he can say anything, however, the sound of another guard scream out catches their attention.

"What was that?" the first exclaims, the two turning and running towards the sound of the yelling. They stop with wide eyes at the sight of one of their comrades dead on the pathway leading to the manor walls, blood pooling beneath him. They exchange wide eyed looks, before they raise their weapons and face back to back, slowly making their way towards the gate. Another guard runs over, his own eyes wide. "He got two of us!"

"One here," the second of the two guards speaks up, nodding towards their dead friend.

A gunshot goes off inside the walls surrounding the manor, and the three run inside.

"It's the Assassin!" someone yells up ahead, and they see Vardon for a split second, before he disappears into a bomb of smoke.

The man growls as he slices through a soldier with his hidden blade, turning to look up at the manor itself and eye an open window. There was a sniper up there perched and ready, but not to live much longer. He throws another smoke bomb down and tosses one at the wall before scaling it, grabbing the unsuspecting sniper through the window and tossing him out with a flick of his blade. He jumps into the room and looks around, using his vision to spot a guard walking towards him down the hall, unknowing of his soon to be death. He takes him out and looks around with his Eagle Vision again, finding a yellow blur in the other side of the building, far left corner.

"There you are," he mutters, before taking off down the hallway, eager to end the man's life and find his brother. He stabs and slices his way passed anyone he runs into, anger clouding his vision and numbing his senses. He would force Kenway to tell him where his brother was before he murdered him. The rage he felt when he discovered his brother had been taken…was overwhelming.

He makes his way to the man's office, throwing the dead body aside that had once been a guard standing outside of it, kicking the door down to enter and find Kenway sitting at his desk, doing paperwork, of all fucking things!

"Kenway," Vardon sneers, hidden blade extended and itching to sink deep into the man's throat. Haytham sighs and puts down his pen, looking at him with a tired, almost annoyed look. "Vardon. Are you happy you've just killed numerous innocent people over something that can be simply compromised?"

The Assassin glares darkly at him. "Innocent? Anyone whom bares the Templar cross can hardly be called innocent. Where is my brother?"

Haytham gives him a calm frown. "Where is the Precursor Box?"

Vardon's glare turns into a full blown scowl. "I don't have time for this! You're dead either way, so spill it!"

The Grand Master's frown deepens. The man was stupid yet dangerous. It wouldn't take much for him to jump over the desk and stab him in the throat.

Then, a shadow catches his eye…from the skylight…

Vardon watches furiously as Haytham smirks and leans back in his seat comfortably. "I highly recommend you tell me where the Precursor Box is, Vardon."

The Assassin takes a few steps forward, ready to throw himself at the Templar. "You don't have the-!"

Glass shatters above their heads as Shay drops down, landing in a crouch right in front of Vardon, grabbing the man and throwing him on the ground, stabbing his throat with his hidden blade, holding it there as blood seeped out around it. Vardon coughed and cursed, blood spitting out of his mouth down his chin, looking up to meet the cold eyes of the Master Templar.

"The traitor…" he forces out gravely. Shay glares down at him menacingly.

"Where. Is. It?" he glowers. "The box. You tell me, and I won't kill your brother."

The Assassin closes his eyes, feeling his life drain away by the second. A hoarse laugh chokes out of him, his eyes dark. "On a ship, on its way to Boston…right as we speak. They plan to take it away…even I don't know where to…"

Shay's eyes narrow. "What ship?!"

Vardon laughs one last time. "You'll never make it…"

He goes still and silent, causing Shay to curse loudly, throwing the dead body down and sheathing his blade. "Dammit!"

"We can still get it, we know where it will be," Haytham is already standing, walking around the desk at a brisk pace. "Let's go, Shay!"

The two bolt out of the office, leaving Vardon's body behind.

  


 


End file.
